Origins
by spiderme
Summary: Oneshot. We all know of the ancient grudge between the Capulets and Montagues, but did you ever wonder how it originated?


**Well I had to write this for school and decided I may as well get some use out of it. This is the story of how the ancient grudge between the Capulets and the Montagues came to be. It's nothing special, but as always, reveiws are appreciated, and please piont out any grammatical/word choice errors that you find. I know this is written in fairly casual format, but bear with me.**

**Enjoy! -Cinderfoot  
**

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"And, we will crush those who dare to defy us! For the Roman Empire!" yelled the emperor Constantine, the great general, to his elite army.

"The Roman Empire!" echoed the soldiers. Constantine's elite army was gathered, not for the first time, outside the stone walls of a defending city. Of the thousands of faces, three men stood out in particular. They were each mounted on a steed, with red feathers in their helms.

"Are you ready, brothers?" asked the first, a stocky man with a dappled gray horse. He was aligned in the barracks alongside his siblings.

"Of course, my dear Quintus. I did not march all the way out here for nothing," said the next with a chuckle. He was a tall young man sitting casually in the saddle of his chestnut stallion. The final brother gave a sigh.

"Sven, you seem to be slacking off. Have you forgotten the reason we have joined this army?" he said sternly. This brother held himself with pride and dignity, but an echo of sadness could be heard in his voice.

"I am sorry, Seimus. Yes...Of course. I'm ready now," said Sven quietly, almost ruefully. He sat up on his saddle higher, copying Seimus's perfect stance. "We are here to avenge our brothers, Unus, Bience, Trience, and Fourte. To live their legacy."

"I am still not convinced, Sven. _You_ seem to be here only for the glory," Seimus remarked snidely. Sven turned to glare at him.

"Brothers! Brothers! The Monlets can not win a battle divided. We stand together!" said Quintus, directing his mount in between the two arguing brothers. "Come to your senses! I do not want to see us divided,"

Seimus gave another dramtic sigh.

The wind rustled the long tendrils of grass ominously, as if a ghost was passing through. The dim glow of lanterns could be seen in the towers of the city's walls, and soon the panicked yelling could be heard in the distance. The brothers exchanged worried glances. Something felt off.

"ONWARD!" yelled Constantine, unsheathing his sword and charging forward on his stallion. Men at the front of the barracks gripped the two massive battering rams, and backed up in order to strike. It took only one blow for the flimsy wooden gates to come crashing down in a cloak of dust. Constantine's Elite was already on their way to victory.

The brothers charged together, they worked best as a team. Sven was on the left, jabbing his spear to the side. Quintus took the other side, and Seimus would use his broadsword on opponents running toward them. Battle after battle had perfected this fighting technique to become something more, a flowing dance of sorts. Nothing could break it, until the arrow pierced Seimus's shoulder.

Quintus and Sven almost didn't notice, at first. Their confidence was more of a sense of invincibility. They hadn't become a part of the elite army for nothing.

"Brothers! I'm hit!" Seimus screamed, slumping in his saddle, his eyes closing. The others stopped and stared for a split second, before their superior reflexes allowed them to react. Quintus took Seimus over his back as Sven stopped Seimus's mount. They laid him down in the back of a stable, and removed his helmet.

"Seimus, no…" Sven moaned. Quintus's eyes were frantic.

"I'll survive, I just…I can't fight…Not now…" Seimus trailed off. A shadow had covered the stable in darkness. The brothers turned, fearing the opposing side, but were relieved to see their ally, Captain Blaise.

Blaise quickly assessed the problem. "Don't try to explain, just guard him. He's one of our best," Blaise grunted before darting back into the fray of the battle.

"Keep an eye on him. I'll scout the area," Sven said quickly before running out of the stable.

"Sven! Don't-," Quintus attempted to halt his brother without sucsess. He sighed as he propped Seimus up on his bed of straw. Seimus smiled weakly.

"He is a quick thinker, but that makes him rash," said Seimus softly. "That will get him trouble someday,"

"No, that will get him trouble soon, if I have anything to say about it," Quintus grumbled.

The stable door burst open. A dark silhouette was all that could be made out. Another noise came from behind Quintus in the shadows.

"Could it be the famous Monlet brothers in a spot of trouble?" said a silky voice.

An ambush.

Quintus withdrew his sword as quickly as he could, but dropped it in his rush. He looked up at the cruel eyes of the enemy before him.

"Oh dear me, it seems one of them is crippled. I will have to reward my archers later, but for now…" the enemy soldier dragged on, "I see no use for him. Take care of the weakened one, men." Quintus felt strong arms grip him from behind. He was useless.

"NO! Not my brother! Please, I beg you! Not him!" Quintus screamed. Hot tears went down his face, something he had not felt since a general had brought the news of his eldest brother's death all those years ago.

Quintus stared on helplessly as his brother's life ended so cruelly before him. The arms released him. Quintus fell limply on his knees before the soldier.

"Seimus! NO!" A cry erupted from behind the stable doors. Sven stood, sword raised, eyes furious. "Get them!"

A flood of ally warriors raced in behind him. The enemies fled through the stable's back doors.

"Cowards! After them!" Sven commanded the other soldiers. While the men were not under Sven's order, they had always respected him as a great swordsman.

Sven ran to Seimus's lifeless body and knelt before him silently. Quintus crawled forward, but Sven shoved him back angrily.

"How could you let this happen?" Sven yelled at Quintus. "You were supposed to be guarding him! Seimus is dead! Dead, Quintus, and it's your fault!"

"My fault?" Quintus choked. "My fault? How can one man defend an entire stable against four soldiers? If you hadn't have run after the archers, this wouldn't have happened in the first place!"

"You dropped your sword, didn't you?" Sven nearly whispered, noticing the clean sword on the ground across the stable floor. "You are so incompetent as to lose your sword? And you blame me?!"

"Of course I blame you! You know I don't fight well alone, but you still left me!" Quintus yelled, shoving Sven to the ground.

"You don't understand! Every one of those cowards that has ever hurt my brothers has gotten away with it! Just once, I wanted to see justice!" Sven shouted.

"Stop, stop! Whatever is the problem?!" screamed a voice over Sven and Quintus's heated argument. The brothers both turned to see Evanus, a close friend of theirs. Evanus saw Seimus's body and put a hand on his chest.

"Oh, no….My friends, I am sorry. But let us have peace. It was no one's fault," said Evanus, always the peace maker. "We were successful, of course. Our army was too large for them. Come back to the town center, where we are gathered."

"Fine," said Sven stiffly, standing up and dusting himself off, "but don't expect me to walk with him," Sven glared at Quintus once more before gently lifting Seimus's body onto his stallion.

Quintus spat at Sven's boots. "It's not like I ever want to be associated with you again anyway."

Evanus gave a worried look, but left the brothers to go their separate ways.

Both brothers walked their separate paths to the gathering, Quintus alone through darkened streets, and Sven through the middle of the crowd with Seimus's body on his steed's saddle.

Constantine stood on a platform in the center of the crowd; the dead enemy general's body beside him. The brothers entered the circle on opposite sides.

"Victory is ours once more! An easy win for the Roman Empire!" Constantine yelled to his elite. Sven glared through the sun. An easy win, an easy battle, costing such an important life. It wasn't fair. How could Quintus have done this to him?

"Constantine! Your stallion is panicked! We cannot approach him!" came a shout from where a majority of the horses were tethered. Constantine quickly leapt off of his podium. The crowd parted for him as he ran to the horses.

Sven turned to check on his own horse. He was gently rubbing his horse's nose, murmuring quietly, when he felt the point of a sword on his neck. He turned slowly to see Quintus, sneering at him with his left hand gripping the sword.

"I believe I was the one who paid for all of our horses when we decided to join the army. That stallion belongs me," Quintus jeered. The crowd slowly parted around them, completely silent.

"Then you should give me your sword. I was the one that worked as a blacksmith to craft it," Sven said, using his own sword to flip Quintus's out of the way. The crowd began to cheer and whistle. They knew when a fight was coming.

"But who got you that job in the first place?" asked Quintus, "Seimus."

"And who got Seimus killed? You!" yelled Sven, charging at Quintus.

The swordplay was slightly unbalanced, with Quintus playing a defensive game and Sven just barley missing deathblows. The crowd was going wild. The brothers wove their swords in and out, sometimes missing a blow by sheer luck.

Evanus parted his way through the crowd looking frantic. He gripped each brother on the shoulder. "Peace! Peace! Don't you see the madness in this argument?"

"Stay out of this Evanus, this does not concern you!" yelled Quintus. Evanus watched the scene play out in slow motion. Both Sven and Quintus drew back their swords for another jab. They were in perfect sync. They would both hit.

Evanus leapt in between their swords in a final attempt to bring peace. He was pierced by both swords, through both sides. Dead.

"What is the matter with you?!" yelled Constantine running up to them furiously. Both brothers stood staring at their friend, killed by their own swords.

"There you stand, covered in the blood of your friend by your own petty feud. Do you admit that your pride has led you to this?" asked Constantine.

"Absolutely not," said Sven immediately. He would never admit that he was wrong in front of his brother, not show remorse.

"Never," said Quintus a split second later. He could not bring himself to face the guilt of the deaths looming over him.

"Then you are banished. Take your horses and swords and go home. Now," said Constantine furiously.

"Let it be known to the elite that we are no longer brothers!" yelled Quintus, looking away from Sven.

"We will not be associated ever more!" shouted Sven, turning away.

And so goes the tale of two men, no longer brothers, as their pride clouded their judgment. Each went home on their own time, each found a lovely wife. Mademoiselle Otague was Sven's feisty wife, and Lady Capirus was the meek wife of Quintus.

Imagine the surprise of the men when they found that they both were moving to Verona. Immediately, both brothers took a name change, combining their wife's with their own, Montague, Capulet. Both households did their best to pretend the other never existed. When conversation of the other came up, it was nothing but hatred. This hatred passed from generation to generation, creating the ancient grudge that we know now.

If only they weren't so proud.

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**I kind of tried to make it so Tybalt's death was reminiscent to Evanus's. Please forgive for the names, it was my sad attempt at keep the names latin-esque, while following the number thing.**

**Thanks for reading!  
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